I remember my mom telling me stories.
Stories of what she was doing the day President Kennedy was shot. Or the day Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Or the day Elvis died.
I remember her stories.
I remember wondering if I would have stories like that to tell my kids. Would I witness history happening? Would I ever say, "I remember exactly what I was doing when...".
I remember wondering that.
I remember the Challenger Space Shuttle blowing up when I a child. It's a distant memory but it is there.
I remember President Reagan being shot. It's a distant memory, but it is there.
I remember vaguely the Oklahoma City Bombing.
I remember the Gulf War, but I'm not exactly sure what started it.
There is a lot of history I remember vaguely, distantly, almost a memory of a memory.
But I will never forget where I was, what I was doing or how I felt, the moment I heard that a plane had hit the World Trade Centers. And then another one. I was surrounded by preschoolers. Other people's children. We plastered smiles on our faces and pretended everything was okay as the towers fell. As people died. As lives were changed forever.
I will never forget a friend opening her Bible and reading scripture in the middle of the public school we were in.
I will never forget the utter devastation I felt as more than 300 firefighters lost their lives doing what they are called to do. Protecting others. Precious firefighters that just as easily could have been my dad or brother.
I remember. And I will never forget exactly what I was doing the day the towers fell.